He came down to where she stood, a glass of champagne in one hand, and offered the other to Renae. “Thank you for the invitation.”
“Why, Sheriff, you are always welcome here.”
Once they had shaken hands, one of the staff members interrupted and requested Renae’s presence in the kitchen. When she went off to tend to whatever emergency had cropped up, Conner asked, “Shall we mingle?”
“I suppose. This really isn’t my thing.”
“Mine either,” he said.
Conner placed his hand at her back. Skin to skin. His splayed fingers against her naked skin sent her pulse up a notch. Even the cool evening air couldn’t stop the heat from coursing through her veins. She felt his touch with every coiled nerve in her body.
She tried to step away but he stuck to her. “Do you have to do that?” she asked in an amazingly steady voice.
“Do what?”
“Touch me.”
“You’re the one who came half-dressed.” His fingers began to make sensual little motions on her back. “Which isn’t a criticism. I’m enjoying myself.”
She reached around and removed his hand. “I’m not here for your enjoyment.”
“Sure you are. You’re the whole reason for this little gathering.”
“I was already introduced to most of these people.”
“Introduced, yes. Observed, no.”
“Observe me doing what?”
“Anything. Everything. Renae is probably freaked because you have more money than she does. She’s used to being queen bee.”
“And does anyone know how much money I have?”
“I don’t know the exact amount. Just that you’re the bank’s best customer. A title Renae has held for decades.”
“Let me guess.” She looked up in order to meet his gaze. “You know somebody who knows somebody who knows somebody at the bank.”
He smiled.
Her legs threatened to turn to jelly. “You have an incestuous town, Sheriff.”
“Conner,” he corrected. “And I should be mad at you.”
“For what?”
“Having my daughter tutor your charity case David Segan.”
She shook her head. “Don’t you believe in second chances?”
“Not when you have a rap sheet that predates puberty.”
“Nickle-and-dime dumb stuff. But that’s the thing. David is a smart kid whose only real crime was being raised in a shit home environment.”
“And Maddox? You hired him because…”
“Practical self-interest,” she explained. “I don’t have any man skills. Maddox takes care of almost everything.”
“Almost?”
She shrugged. “He can’t fix the window casing.”
“I can.”
She eyed him skeptically. “And why would you want to come to my house and repair my window?”
“I’m neighborly that way.”
She thought for a minute. “You just want to be there when Sam tutors David.”
He simply shrugged. Well, it wasn’t all that simple. The action accentuated his broad shoulders and narrow hips. And it didn’t help that his woodsy cologne was wafting in her direction. “Guilty.”
“Does your daughter know you don’t trust her?”
His expression hardened. “It isn’t her I don’t trust. It’s the Segan kid I have doubts about.”
“Then come fix my window. You’ll see David in a whole new light.”
“Speaking of light,” he said in a sexy, lowered voice. “You look beautiful in the moonlight.”
“You clean up well, too,” she answered quickly before the lump of desire in her throat hindered her ability to speak. “Let’s mingle.”
He put his hand on her back again and kept it there, making it nearly impossible for her to remember who was who. All she could do was imagine what it would be like to have him peel her dress off and make love to her all night.
Maybe Amelia was right. Obviously, Purdue was full of mine fields, the biggest one being Conner Kavanaugh. She hadn’t expected someone like him and she wasn’t completely sure how to handle the situation before it derailed her from her goal.
CHAPTER TEN
The Burkes’ backyard had been transformed with small LED lights strung from the porch through the trees. Several linen-covered round tables dotted the lawn. A baby grand was out on the far end of the porch and a tuxedo-clad pianist played a steady stream of classical music.
Emma guessed there were about twenty-five guests. She remembered some of them from her quick meet-and-greet at Stella’s. Her boss, Elgin Hale, was among them and Emma recognized the petite woman with him as his wife. There was a framed picture of her in Elgin’s office. Hayden Blackwell was there as well, and he was headed in her direction.
Emma took a long swallow of her champagne then said, “Good evening Mr. Blackwell.”
“Call me Hayden,” he insisted as he turned his attention to Conner, who was still standing sentry over her. Annoying man. “Sheriff. Mind if I borrow her for a few minutes?”
“I’m not the sheriff’s to lend,” Emma said tartly before following the State’s Attorney to an empty table without looking back. One of the uniformed waitstaff came by with a tray of mini quiches. Another replaced her empty flute with a full one. “What do you need?” Emma asked.
“The LeFabre case,” he answered.
“What about it?” Emma said as she reviewed the case in her mind. It was about a dog. Her client, Jeff LaFabre, had started a fight outside a strip club. It had erupted into a brawl, with Jeff smack in the middle of it. During the chaos, one man had been stabbed and he later died at the hospital. Jeff had been identified by two of the other combatants as the person with the knife.
“I have a strong case,” Blackwell began. “But I’m feeling generous. Your client pleads to one count of voluntary manslaughter with a deadly weapon and I agree to a sentence recommendation of fifteen years.”
Emma smiled and chuckled softly. “You have a weak case dependent on the testimony of two guys so drunk they had a hard time telling the cops their names. The night of the fight they both swore they couldn’t identify the person with the knife. Then the Crime Stoppers reward gets posted and suddenly they’re fonts of information? They have a reason to lie. Either one of them could be the actual killer. Without video surveillance, there’s no way you can corroborate their statements. I’ve got enough reasonable doubt to drive a truck through.”
Hayden’s eyes narrowed and his neck began to turn red above his too-tight white collar. “What kind of plea are you looking for?”
For all her outward bravado, Emma knew she had one major problem: her client. He was a big, beefy guy covered in tattoos. And they weren’t limited to his body. No, Jeff had teardrop facial tattoos and some sort of tribal thing covering one side of his face. Truth be told, any jury would take one look at him and presume he was guilty of something. “I can only recommend this to my client.”
“I understand.”
“Involuntary manslaughter. No weapons charge. Five years.”
Hayden scoffed. “He killed a man.”
Emma smiled. “Allegedly. I can line up a dozen witnesses from that night to say it was impossible to tell who did the stabbing because there were at least a dozen guys fighting in that parking lot.”
“Ten years,” Hayden countered.
Emma shook her head. “Seven.”
Hayden sucked in a deep gulp of cool night air. “Okay. Sell it to your client and then send me the paperwork.”
“Why, Hayden Blackwell,” came a familiar female voice.
Emma turned around and saw Renae walking up to them. She had a stern look in her eyes as she said, “This is a party. Not a time for you two to be working.”
“Sorry, Renae,” Hayden said. “It was just a small matter I thought we could resolve quickly.”
The older woman hooked her arm through Emma’s and steered her back toward the group. “There are some more people I
want you to meet. I can’t tell you how sorry I am that Hayden sidetracked you. This is a party, for heaven’s sake.”
“It was no big deal,” Emma assured her. She could practically taste the other woman’s perfume as she looked up and admired the lovely home. “Your home is amazing,” she said.
“Thank you, we like it. We had it built when my husband was in his second term as governor and we were living in Tallahassee. I love Victorian; it took over a year to build and furnish. I tried to keep it as authentic as possible. I even went to England to get some of the furniture and artwork.”
“I’d love a full tour,” Emma said.
Renae was beaming. “Of course. Let me make a few more introductions and then I’ll take you inside.”
Emma found herself scanning the guests for Conner. He was having a conversation with Wayne the bailiff. He looked good in that suit. She was admiring him openly when he suddenly glanced her way. Emma immediately averted her gaze and gave herself a little mental bitch slap for allowing herself to be distracted by him.
Renae introduced her to a half-dozen people, mostly local businessmen and women. At some point she’d been handed another flute of champagne, along with a wonderful caviar bite that exploded with flavor in her mouth. Rubbing elbows with the wealthy definitely had its perks.
Emma was new to the world of money. Settling the lawsuit had ended her career in New York but it had put more than twenty million dollars in her bank account. For a person who’d been a scholarship student at an elite private boarding school for girls, and later at Harvard, her newfound wealth was like the entry into another universe. Having money gave her freedom. Including the freedom to explore Purdue.
“…is Kenny Simms,” Renae was saying.
Emma froze for a minute as she looked at the man standing in front of her. He reminded her of Bruce Willis. He was maybe six feet tall, bald, and in amazing shape for a man in his fifties. He was also the man who had killed her father.
She recovered quickly. “Nice to meet you,” she said, shaking his hand.
“Kenny is my husband’s chief of security.”
Who needed a chief of security in Purdue? What were the Burkes afraid of? “I’ve never met a security expert,” Emma said. “What exactly do you do?” she inquired.
He regarded her with steely dark eyes. “It varies.”
Renae reached out and gave Emma’s hand a squeeze. “Kenny keeps the crazies at bay. He’s been with us since Maddison was in the state house and we lured him away from the police department when Maddison decided to explore a campaign for the senate.”
“So your husband is running?”
Renae just smiled non-committally. “Shall we go inside?”
Emma plastered a smile on her face and said to the man, “Nice to have met you.” Then she followed Renae up the porch steps.
“The house is ten thousand square feet with seven bedrooms and eight baths,” her hostess said as they weaved through the busy, state-of-the-art kitchen.
Emma was shown the perfectly appointed parlor, the living room, and the dining room with its twenty-five-foot table. It was impressive but for her taste there was too much gilding, with a lot of burgundy accents and textured wallpaper all over the place.
Renae gave her little history lessons along the way. She explained the derivation of certain pieces of furniture and recited the accomplishments of the various artists who’d sculpted or painted their way into her home. There was one painting in particular that struck Emma. It was a watercolor of a large series of villas set on the bank of a marsh. Renae identified the artist, so Emma assumed it had been, like the small Renoir in the dining room, copied, or perhaps in one of her art books from school.
The second story was just as impressive. The master bedroom especially looked like a scaled-down version of a chamber out of Versailles. Emma could just close her eyes and imagine Renae lounging on the velvet chaise, eating peeled grapes while relaxing with a magazine. Again the colors were off-putting, but Emma could appreciate the quality, if not the style.
Renae showed her Maddison’s study, which had a beautiful view of the backyard with all the magnolia trees. The study’s walls were lined with awards and framed photographs. One in particular caught her eye. It was a picture of Renae and Maddison with the President and First Lady. Judging by their clothing, the photo had to have been taken on the same day as the assassination.
“It is truly a beautiful home,” she told Renae as they stood at the top of the grand staircase to admire the chandelier Renae had commissioned from a glassblower in Seattle.
“I understand you bought the Franklin home.”
“Yes,” Emma said.
Renae sighed. “Not to be rude but I also understand you’ve hired Jeanine Segan.”
“Yes.”
“I know you’re new in town, but I wish you would’ve called me before you hired her.”
“Why?” Emma asked, playing dumb.
“She used to work for me and unfortunately we discovered she was stealing from us.”
“Stealing what?”
“Coins, jewelry, cash.”
“I did a background check and nothing came up.”
Renae gave a little shrug. “We couldn’t make an official complaint. Jeanine was very good at covering her tracks. We didn’t have the evidence to prove she was a thief.”
“Without evidence—”
“Oh, it had to be her,” Renae cut in. “The dates that things went missing coincided with the days Jeanine worked.”
“Only Jeanine?” Emma asked.
“Well, technically no. But the only other person with unrestricted access to the house was my cook, Mary, and she’s been with us since we were first married. I trust her implicitly.”
“I’m comfortable with my decision,” Emma replied, then took a small sip of champagne.
“I also understand you’ve hired that pitiful homeless man.”
“Willis Maddox?”
“You are far more trusting than I am,” Renae said. “Then again, safety is of paramount concern for us.”
“That’s alarming,” Emma said with just the right amount of concern. “What happened to make you extra cautious?”
“We had an incident years ago that left us shaken. Suffice to say we take security very seriously.”
Emma wanted to hear Renae’s version of the events. “May I ask—”
Emma knew from the news clippings that Renae and Maddison had had front row seats for the incident. Maddison had been the then-governor’s campaign manager and he’d been next to the dais when the shots rang out. He had gone on to lead his own political career; moving from state senate up to governor. Now he had his sights set on the U.S. Senate.
“We never talk about it.” Renae waved her hand, the diamonds in her rings flashing in the light. “Shall we rejoin the party?”
As soon as Emma was back outside, she discovered Conner seemed to be waiting for her. He was at her side in a matter of seconds. And he wasn’t the only one following her every move. In her absence, Bill Whitley had arrived and was standing with their boss. Her coworker was staring at her with nearly open hostility. It was perfectly clear that he didn’t like having her around.
The other set of eyes latched on to her belonged to Kenny Simms. His face was completely expressionless, so she didn’t know what his issue might be. Surely he didn’t see her as a threat to the Burkes’ security.
“How did you like it?” Connor asked.
She shrugged. “It’s nice. A little too ornate for my taste. What’s the story on the Simms guy?”
“He used to be with the Purdue Police Department. Then he switched to the Florida State Troopers and eventually ended up on Governor Burke’s security detail when Maddison was in the state house.”
“Renae told me that. I’m just curious about why they need security.”
“Paranoia,” Conner supplied.
“That is just silly. Purdue seems like a pretty quiet town.” She silently ho
ped he might mention the assassination. No such luck.
“Someone shot at your house a few days ago,” he reminded her.
A chill danced along her exposed spine. “I thought you said it was some sportsman’s errant shot.” And if she told herself it was a random shooting enough times, maybe one day she’d believe it. But Emma was waiting for another shoe to drop.
“I’m sure it was. By the way, you should have Willis put up some new No Trespassing and No Hunting signs around your property. That house was vacant for a long time and people got used to using those woods to hunt and shoot.”
“My realtor failed to mention that,” Emma commented.
“Just post the signs. You shouldn’t have any other problems.”
The party wound down and that was just fine with Emma. It wasn’t until she was in her car and on the way home that she felt her muscles begin to uncoil. She reached her driveway and carefully drove up to the darkened house. She was guided only by the lamplight from the third story.
As she reached the front door with her key out, her breath caught in her throat and she stopped short. A single white tulip with its stem dipped in blood was lying on the porch in front of the closed door.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Emma’s first thought upon seeing the blood-dipped flower was to call Connor. Not just because he was the sheriff, but because having a big, muscled guy with a loaded weapon with her right now would help dispel her nerves. But she rejected that.
First, because she was used to fighting her own damned battles, second because she’d just seen him, and third, she did not want him thinking she was a freaking damsel in distress.
There wasn’t anything he could do, but there was something she could do for herself.
She unlocked the door and discovered the house was quiet. She assumed Jeanine and David were in their respective rooms. Before stepping over the threshold, she plucked the flower off the porch and immediately deposited it in the garbage as she passed through the kitchen.
“Note to self: install video cameras.” The sound of her own voice in the quiet house was comforting as she washed her hands.
She was still keyed up after the party, partly because she was intrigued by the variety of people she’d met and partly because she could still feel the ghost of Conner Kavanaugh’s fingers dancing along her bare back. Emma shivered. Not an I’m cold shiver. Nope, this was primal lust. A distraction and a complication she couldn’t afford.
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